The Mastermind, a documentary aired repeatedly on Turkey’s pro-government television channel, presents an elaborate “history” of an international Jewish conspiracy from Moses to the present day. The title takes its cue from a speech by Turkish president Recep Tayyip Erdogan blaming an unnamed “mastermind” for orchestrating the various problems afflicting his country. Burak Bekdil writes:

The main theme of the film is the 3,500 years of “Jewish domination of the world.” It focuses on three “Jewish” historical figures . . . : the medieval philosopher and Torah scholar Moses Maimonides, Charles Darwin (who was not a Jew), and the German-American philosopher Leo Strauss. . . .

Sounds surreal? Not in Turkey in the year 2015. The Mastermind is not the product of a bunch of crazy fanatics. It is a calculated move by a bunch of smart politicians who want to win votes (and often succeed) from an . . . anti-Semitic, religiously devout Muslim population.

According to the findings of a survey by Switzerland-based pollster WIN/Gallup International, 79 percent of Turks identify themselves as religiously devout. . . . Among many Sunni Turks, anti-Semitic sentiment is often a prerequisite to piety. Therefore, the film The Mastermind directly targets an audience that makes up 79 percent of Turkey . . . ahead of critical parliamentary elections on June 7.

If Iran succeeds in obtaining nuclear weapons, the war in Gaza, let alone the protests on college campuses, will seem like a minor complication. Jonathan Schachter fears that this danger could be much more imminent than decisionmakers in Jerusalem and Washington believe. In his view, Israel seems to be repeating the mistake that allowed it to be taken by surprise on Simchat Torah of 2023 and Yom Kippur of 1973: putting too much faith in an intelligence concept that could be wrong.

Israel and the United States apparently believe that despite Iran’s well-documented progress in developing capabilities necessary for producing and delivering nuclear weapons, as well as its extensive and ongoing record of violating its international nuclear obligations, there is no acute crisis because building a bomb would take time, would be observable, and could be stopped by force. Taken together, these assumptions and their moderating impact on Israeli and American policy form a new Iran concept reminiscent of its 1973 namesake and of the systemic failures that preceded the October 7 massacre.

Meanwhile, most of the restrictions put in place by the 2015 nuclear deal will expire by the end of next year, rendering the question of Iran’s adherence moot. And the forces that could be taking action aren’t:

The European Union regularly issues boilerplate press releases asserting its members’ “grave concern.” American decisionmakers and spokespeople have created the unmistakable impression that their reservations about the use of force are stronger than their commitment to use force to prevent an Iranian atomic bomb. At the same time, the U.S. refuses to enforce its own sanctions comprehensively: Iranian oil exports (especially to China) and foreign-currency reserves have ballooned since January 2021, when the Biden administration took office.

Israel’s response has also been sluggish and ambiguous. Despite its oft-stated policy of never allowing a nuclear Iran, Israel’s words and deeds have sent mixed messages to allies and adversaries—perhaps inadvertently reinforcing the prevailing sense in Washington and elsewhere that Iran’s nuclear efforts do not present an exigent crisis.